It was a cold day, a day when you hid in your house, and snuggled up in blankets by the fire. A day that you felt like turning the heat on, but felt you would freeze if you so much as moved from your place. That was just how cold it was, and I was unable to escape it. My gloves were not thick or good enough to withstand it, and holding a metal pistol grip did not help. But it was worth it, because I would be victorious! There was no way I would back down now. The Russians had to pay for nuking New York. And I was just the man to see they did. So I took a magazine from a nearby shelf that I had made when I built my fort, in which I now lay, constantly aware of my surroundings. The road was lit with a light that felt so fiery to my goggled eyes. I prepared my Berretta .50 CAL. Rifle, and took one shot. The car exploded, hurtling off of the road, like a phoenix rising from its nest, yet falling, not flying. It was obvious my SABBOT round had hit its gas tank, completely destroying the man inside. He used to be the soviet premiere.
He used to be.
so after writing a complex backstory, I made this. so... it was... an unusual construct in the sense that it has a backstory that was writen before the MOC itself was built.